Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Last week some of you suggested that Louisa might be in for a spanking this week, and I am pleased to announce that you were correct! So without further ado, let's have her OTK!

IN A MIST - Chapter 12 - In which poor Louisa regrets her folly and Elizabeth's jealousy overflows

A few minutes later Louisa entered the room. She had her mother's thick glossy black hair which she wore demurely in an Alice band. Otherwise she was cast in an altogether softer mould, with large features and sad spaniel eyes. She moved self-consciously, as if ashamed of her rather plump body.

Totally under her mother's sway, she was dreadfully shy of strangers. She blushed violently when she saw Lennox standing there in his bathing trunks. She managed a hurried smile of greeting to Elizabeth - the girls had seen little of each other since boarding school. But her attention was riveted on her mother, at whom she cast forlorn spaniel-like "am I forgiven?" looks.

"Louisa has been in disgrace all day, haven't you, Louisa?" Mrs. Farquarson said crisply, eyeing her with severe disapproval.

Louisa went red and looked down at the carpet.

"Well might you blush, Miss." The girl fidgeted wretchedly, as if her mother were sticking spiteful needles into her skin. "Thanks to your careless stupidity our poor darling little Hannah is now drifting somewhere in the middle of the English Channel!"

Louisa snivelled. Her eyes were red and puffy as though she'd been crying. She had on a red and white gingham dress that just covered her knees. Her legs were bare except for white ankle socks. Elizabeth got the feeling her mother liked to keep her dressed as a child, in spite of her seventeen years, so that Louisa's emerging womanhood would in no way challenge her own.

"Louisa, I want you to take a good look at this gentleman. Mr. Lennox is Elizabeth's tutor. You know what a tutor is, don't you?"

"Yes, Mummy."

"A tutor is a gentleman who knows how to deal with naughty girls. He knows just how to punish them!"

Louisa went redder and redder as her mother's homily grew more sinister. She had none of Elizabeth's buoyancy of character. Elizabeth pitied her from the bottom of her heart.

"We've been having words about you, Mr. Lennox and I," Mrs. Farquarson's voice was shrill and mocking. "In his opinion what you need, my girl, is a sound spanking to set you to rights -"

"Oh, Mummy, no!" Louisa's face and neck turned crimson with petrified shame. Her lower lip trembled as if she were about to burst into tears.

"- and who better to spank you than Mr. Lennox!" she concluded,a cruel smile flickering on her thin lips.

She dragged her wailing daughter across the room to him, her thin lips compressed in a sneer of triumph.

"Here," she said, "please deal with my daughter exactly as you would under similar circumstances with Elizabeth."

Bundling the protesting girl into his astonished arms, she whispered, "If you are the man I think you are, do it! We owe it to Elizabeth. We've had our fun at her expense - now it's her turn to be entertained. I'm sure she'd love to see someone else on the receiving end for a change!"

Judging by the horrified look on Elizabeth's face, Lennox very much doubted that last remark. Nevertheless he had never in all his days as a tutor turned down an opportunity of administering corporal punishment to a girl. Besides, to refuse would surely be seen as a sign of weakness. It would impugn his manhood.

Sitting down on the couch he drew the trembling body of Louisa across his knee. It seemed the height of incongruity - as well as somewhat obscene - to spank a girl while wearing only swimming trunks. The inevitable erection would soon be all too apparent beneath the thin cotton of his shorts.

"Pull up her dress and petticoat, Mr. Lennox, else she won't feel a thing," commanded her mother.

"No! No!" Louisa screamed, kicking frantically in a vain attempt to free herself. Mrs. Farquarson seized her daughter's ankles. Her face was flushed and rigid with determination, her mouth twisted and elongated until it resembled the beak of an angry bird. Her long painted fingernails, sharp as talons, dug into Louisa's soft calves.

Elizabeth watched incredulously as Lennox drew the gingham and lace folds up above plump white thighs and over the twin rotundities of Louisa's buttocks.

Elizabeth tried to look away but couldn't. Her eyes returned again and again to the shockingly indecent spectacle of Lennox slowly inching Louisa's knickers down, rolling her from side to side across his lap so that his hand could slide beneath her and loosen them from around her belly.

He had grown used to the trim contours of Elizabeth's behind. Neat and compact, there was scarcely an ounce of excess fat on it anywhere.

As he freed the gusset of Louisa's knickers from between her cleft and slipped them down to her knees, he was momentarily taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the rear he had undertaken to chastise. "Too much cake and ice-cream, Louisa!" he murmured reprovingly, patting her wobbling, dimpled hind-cheeks. They were as soft and as yielding as a pair of over-ripe melons.

"Oh you great big baby!" Mrs. Farquarson snapped, losing all patience with her.

Lennox tipped Louisa further over his knee so that her face was inches from the floor. He knew from experience that the tenderest part of a girl's bottom, the part most vulnerable to punishment, was the smooth undercurve where it joined the thighs.

Louisa's wails reached a new level of intensity. To her utter mortification she knew that he now had not only an excellent view of her bottom, and of the thick black bush between her legs - but also he could clearly see the slit of her sex itself...

"Stop that absurd caterwauling and take your medicine like a brave girl. It will do you the world of good!" her mother cried, slapping Louisa hard on the leg. It did the trick. Louisa whimpered babyishly then fell into silent despair.

Lennox tightened his arm around Louisa's podgy waist. Raising the other arm in the air, he brought his open palm sharply down across the crown of the furthermost buttock.

Louisa gave a piercing yell and jerked convulsively as the stinging impact fanned outwards across her flesh, like ripples from a pebble tossed into a pool.

He attacked the other cheek in similar fashion, so that both buttocks now wore pink blushes on their summits.

Louisa was a big girl with a healthy pair of lungs. After a while she began to use them to their fullest capacity, screaming and roaring in her distress.

Slowly and methodically Lennox was working his way downwards, from just below the base of her spine to the tops of her chubby thighs, taking in the furthest extremities of each wobbling buttock as well as the central area jutting out either side of the broad cleft.

He cupped his palm slightly so that it would more closely correspond to the curvature of Louisa's behind. His arm rose and fell with all the power and regularity of a steamhammer.

All the while, like the sound of the sea, a never ending chorus of gurgling sobs issued from the girl.

Her mother's body was taut as a bow-string with excitement. She was squeezing her trousered thighs together, rubbing one against the other, obscenely, like a grasshopper.

As for Elizabeth, she felt dreadfully confused. She didn't know what to think. She'd never watched a girl being spanked before. Having it inflicted on oneself was altogether different. She'd been too busy then coping with her own bodily responses to think about anything else. Only now, while witnessing another girl's chastisement, could she fully appreciate just how intimately degrading a punishment it was.

The spanking was having a queer effect on Elizabeth. She was beset by feelings of outrage, disgust, compassion - yet a tremendous sense of exultation that made her feel ashamed. Absurd though it was, there was something almost beautiful about the sight of this half-naked girl doing painful penance across her tutor's knee.

She circled the figures in this bizarre tableau, studying the darkening hue of poor Louisa's wriggling backside, noting with appalled fascination how much of her private parts the sobbing girl was involuntarily displaying.

Then she witnessed the tableau from the other side, gazing curiously at Louisa's tear stained face, contorted into a grimace of agony.

Her former feelings of compassion towards the girl for being subjected to such a painful indignity abruptly vanished. Instead, her lower lip curled with jealous contempt. Mrs. Farquarson, cruel and spiteful though she undoubtedly was, had been right to call her daughter a big baby. What a blubbering little coward Louisa was, to make such a terrific fuss about a mere spanking! Elizabeth's own bottom throbbed and ached unbearably - a constant reminder of the ferocious whipping it had received on the beach.

Even so she would give anything to be in Louisa's place. To experience once more the blissful security of lying across her tutor's lap...to feel his large hand palming her bare bottom - how she ached, how she yearned for it!

But that brief chapter in her life was over. He would never again put her across his knee and spank her - he'd made that very clear to Mrs. Farquarson. Instead he would beat her cruelly with cane and switch.

She wouldn't have minded that. She would have gritted her teeth and borne it stoically, deriving whatever comfort she could - even from the rod's steely kiss.

But to stand by and watch another girl being spanked in her stead, receiving such personal care and attention from the man Elizabeth loved so fiercely and possessively, was simply too much to bear. Feeling more unwanted and unloved than at any time in her life, Elizabeth ran from the room, her face averted from the others lest they should see the bitter tears streaming from her eyes.

Sensing her acute distress, Lennox hastily concluded the disciplining of Louisa with a thunderous tattoo of bottom smacks that made her howl more loudly than ever, after which he pushed her roughly off his lap and onto the floor - as if to express his sudden distaste for the whole business.

He volunteered to go in search of Elizabeth, and quite pointedly ignored Mrs. Farquarson's fawning pleasantries and offers to ring for tea.

"Somehow I doubt if Elizabeth will want to stay for tea, after what has happened," he muttered testily as he strode out into the hallway. He realised he had behaved abominably towards Elizabeth. Would she ever forgive him? He felt as though he had let a priceless Ming vase slip out of his careless fingers and smash to fragments on the floor below...

He found her in the conservatory, dry-eyed and pale, absently toying with the Sensitive plant. She had been silently communing with it for some time - for they shared a common fragility.

She ignored him when he called her name. He felt a sharp stab of guilt. He walked up behind her and took her gently by the shoulders. "Would you like to go home now?"

She nodded slowly and reclined limply against his weight.

"I'll tell Mrs. Farquarson we're ready to go then," he murmured.

"No, please don't do that. I don't want to go back with that woman. Please could you telephone home and ask Tomms to collect us?" She spoke almost in a whisper.

"Why are you upset, child?" he asked fatuously, too worried to think of anything intelligent to say.

"I was jealous. Angry,too." She twisted her little embroidered handkerchief wretchedly in her hands.

"Angry with me?"

"No - with her. She's mean and spiteful and I hate her!" She stamped her foot in an outburst of petulance. "Things were wonderful between us until she came along. Now everything's spoilt!"

"Spoilt?" he echoed lamely. "How can that be so?"

The injustice of it all welled up inside her and took control, making her gabble her words. "Because you told her you won't ever spank me again, and I can't bear the thought - I just don't want to live any more - it's as simple as that!"

Lennox gasped in relief. So that was all it was!

"Oh Elizabeth, you silly little goose. When that saucy little bottom of yours has recovered from its whipping, I promise faithfully I'll put you across my knee!" He gathered her fully in his arms and kissed the back of her head. The soft curves of her behind nuzzled against his crotch. His penis erected immediately.

"You'll spank me just like before?" she murmured excitedly.

"Bare-bottomed, over my knee, just as you deserve - you naughty little puss!" he growled, biting her ear.

She turned in his arms and planted a shy kiss on his cheek. "Promise me one thing. You won't ever, ever spank any other girl but me?"

"I promise," he replied, patting her bottom by way of reassurance.

She winced delightedly.

Lennox and Elizabeth were much too caught up in each other to notice the watchful eyes of Diana Farquarson peering spitefully at them from behind the crested fronds of a large Boston fern by the conservatory entrance...

When at last Elizabeth felt sufficiently composed they walked back slowly to the drawing room. Mrs. Farquarson stood smoking a cigarette by the fireplace. She smiled with cat-like slyness at them as they entered the room. "Ah, the happy couple. Reunited at last, I see."

Spoken by anyone else it would have been a jocular enough remark - but coming from Diana Farquarson's thin well-bred lips it acquired the distinct flavour of smut. Elizabeth looked daggers at her and fought back an instinctive desire to cling to her tutor for protection.

"Where is your daughter?" Lennox enquired, reddening slightly and doing his best to steer the conversation away from Elizabeth and him, for he too had felt the sting of her remark. Was she making a veiled accusation of unprofessional conduct on his part? If so, she had better think again, for he was entirely innocent - in deed, if perhaps not in thought.

Louisa, Mrs. Farquarson told them with a gloating smirk, had been "packed off, hot bottomed, to bed!" Elizabeth glared at her with naked anger. What a cruel, vindictive mother she was, to treat her daughter so unfeelingly! Louisa would have desperately needed comforting after being spanked, not summary banishment to the bedroom. Elizabeth no longer attached any blame in this to her tutor. His good nature and his disciplinary expertise had been ruthlessly exploited by an unscrupulous scheming woman.

An awkward silence ensued, broken only by Lennox asking if he might use the telephone in order to ring for their chauffeur. If Mrs. Farquarson was at all disappointed to learn that her offer of a lift had been turned down, she hid it remarkably well - simply shrugging her shoulders philosophically. She made no attempt to elicit the reason why. So they were thankfully spared the embarrassment of having to give it.

Lennox dialled the number and spoke briefly to the dour forbidding chatelaine of Lymchurch House, Mrs. Anderson, who told him frostily that she would relay his message to Mr. Tomms. That is, if the gentleman could be located, it being his afternoon off. Gloomily Lennox replaced the receiver.

"He will be on his way shortly," he reassured an anxious Elizabeth, though privately he had his doubts.

Twenty minutes later though, the old dark-green Sunbeam tourer arrived in the drive. Lennox and Elizabeth were inexpressibly relieved to be departing from "The Laurels". Mrs. Farquarson was her usual impeccably polite self as she shook hands with Lennox and gave Elizabeth a cold peck on the cheek. She insisted that, to cover up the weals on the back of her thighs, Elizabeth borrow one of Louisa's dresses - a donation which, on every ground but that of modesty Elizabeth was unwilling to accept.

"It means that one of us will have to come back to this beastly place in order to return it!" she whispered crossly to her tutor as she reluctantly slipped the ill-fitting garment over her head.

"You may safely leave that errand to me, Elizabeth," Lennox replied, leading her into the waiting vehicle. "I have unfinished business here to attend to."

She glanced sideways at him uneasily.

Quietening her fears with a gentle pressure to her arm, he laughed softly. "Never fear, child, this doesn't involve Louisa. Remember, I gave my word!"

Two days later the village was buzzing with a rumour, circulated by Diana Farquarson's maid, to the effect that a masked intruder had broken into the house in the dead of night and, tying her petrified mistress face down on the bed, had stripped off her night dress and savagely scored her pampered upper-class bottom and thighs with a riding crop. Naturally Mrs. Farquarson had been far too upset and humiliated by the shocking assault to even think of informing the police.

The old grey-beards in the local inn, "The Green Man", thought it the best thing to have happened in Lymchurch for many a long year. "Tanned 'er arse, 'e did, till 'er squealed like a stuck pig!" one of them exclaimed loudly and with relish. "That'll learn the bitch and no mistake!" another replied, raising his glass of ale in a toast to the unknown assailant.

Monday, November 27, 2017

Would you wear a piece of jewellery or other item that identified you as a spanko?

King Marshal: I'm on the side of don't invite questions you don't want or need to
answer. However one of favorite t-shirts is from the Stockroom that has
huge handcuffs on them and I have been known to run to the local super
market with it on.

Dan: I kind of do. I wear a pendent that, within the BDSM community,
designates a male sub. I consider myself to be a "disciplined husband,"
not a true submissive, but they don't seem to make jewelry that
corresponds to my particular fetish.

Mine is on the small side,
and it's not particularly likely anyone would get close enough to see
the symbol. And, of course, unless they happened to be in the BDSM
lifestyle themselves, it's very unlikely they would recognize the symbol
for what it is.

Jan: Hi Hermione, I love a bracelet! My hubby bought me one that spelt out
"spank me" in morse code. It was done in red and grey beads and I loved
it. I have a necklace with a spank me charm on it in writing and I wear
that openly so I suppose I wouldn't hide it!

Fondles: I probably wouldn't wear something that was obvious. however if it was
coded like Jan's, or if it was something that only meant something
significant to BIKSS and I , then yes. definitely.

Yorkie: I have thought about getting one of those leather bracelets they used to
have with "OTK" on it but have no idea how I would answer the
questions.

Amy: Eric and I saw something like this in a leather shop and have heard
there are spanking parties where you wear things like this to signify
your preference. I like Jan's jewelry. I wouldn't openly talk about it
but if someone asked, I'd probably be pretty straight forward.

Baxter: If I was into wearing things on my wrist ( I do not wear a watch) I
might wear the 'bottoms up'. It has dual meaning including drinking
beer. There is a sports bar nearby that is named Bottoms Up. Of course
when I see the place, I think spanking.

Ronnie: Cane-iac is a favourite of mine for spanking implements. I wouldn't
wear anything that was obvious but I love the sound of Jan's bracelet, I
would wear something like that.

Bonnie: Like Jan and others, I would probably wear an accessory that was coded
in some fashion. I recall meeting a woman at work who was wearing a
necklace with a small gold charm in the shape of a riding crop.
Equestrian or spanko? I didn't ask.

Liza: I have a necklace that says "I need a spanking" in morse code.

Hermione: I would be okay with the "Bottoms Up" one. I have a "Bottoms Up" t-shirt that I wear regularly, but it is a souvenir from a winery tour fundraiser so it's easy to explain away. I wouldn't want to wear the "Spanko" one around anyone I know. I'm not ready to out myself.

Thank you all for your opinions on this interesting subject. See you again next week!

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Hello, dear friends. We missed having brunch together last week because of the big Love our Lurkers celebration, but I'm sure your silent readers had plenty of spanking topics to discuss with you.

Earlier this week I visited the Black Friday sale at Cane-iac, my favourite site for spanking implements, and discovered the bracelets that you see above. They prompted this week's question.

Would you wear a bracelet (or similar item) that openly proclaimed your interest in spanking? What would you say if someone inquired about the inscribed message? Would you explain candidly or would you give another explanation?

You know the drill. Leave your response as a comment below, and once everyone has had a chance to speak I will publish a summary of our conversation.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! As we all know, the Pilgrims led a very austere life, with many rules that were strictly enforced. Celebration and frivolity were banned and probably dealt with harshly. That brings us to this couple. I suspect their marriage included discipline, don't you?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish your submissions on Saturday. In the meantime, enjoy your feast and happy Black Friday shopping!

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

We now resume our regular programming and return to In a Mist. After their narrow escape from the river, Elizabeth and Lennox are off to borrow a boat from the mysterious Diana Farquarson. I think it would be good to note that when the two set off for their afternoon at the beach, Elizabeth was barefoot. Her feet must be in worse shape than her bottom after all the cliff-climbing, and now more to come.

IN A MIST - Chapter 11 - In which Lennox meets Diana Farquarson, to Elizabeth's regret.

He watched closely as Elizabeth drew her swimsuit pants up over her crimson-striped bottom. Once in place they concealed the worst of the weals, but there was nothing she could do to hide the purple ridges across the backs of her thighs.

He didn't tell her he'd drawn blood. He thought it best to let her discover the extent of the damage herself when they got home. To tell the truth he was a little worried at how far this compulsion to inflict pain on her had made him go.

They continued along the river bank, Elizabeth walking stiffly and painfully, taking care not to step on the green slimy coils of seaweed that lay strewn in their path like octopuses' tentacles.

They arrived at a cobble-stone quay, at the end of which was an old boathouse. In front of its open doors a fisherman was seated on an upturned bucket mending holes in a net. Two others were engaged in painting the upturned hull of a boat. They looked up from their work and stared curiously at the partly-clad figures of Lennox and Elizabeth - but especially Elizabeth.

The men's presence disquieted her. What would they say when they saw the marks of the whipping on her thighs?

Luckily she remembered a small cliff path leading off to the right. Not only would it take them, by a circuitous route, to Mrs. Farquarson's house, it also skirted the rest of the village - for the house lay sequestered from the rest of the tiny community.

"This way," she whispered, pulling Lennox impatiently by the wrist over to the base of the cliff where the path began. Quickly she started up the rocky slope, only too glad to escape the dreadful embarrassment of the fishermen noticing the tell-tale ridges on the backs of her thighs.

The path rose steeply. After a strenuous climb they found themselves high above the quay. The three fishermen below looked like tiny dolls. Out in the river basin, a natural harbour, brightly painted yachts and two sleek motor launches bobbed at their moorings.

When they reached the top Elizabeth took them along a path that followed the direction of the river upstream. The grass on either side was a colourful splash of wildflowers - red campion, blue meadow cranesbill, and yellow spearwort. The gleaming river to their left disappeared behind a tall screen of trees.

After a quarter of a mile the path suddenly climbed to the right between dense clumps of rhododendrons.

They emerged once more into the open sunlight, on the edge of a cornfield. Twenty yards away, beyond a five-barred gate, was a road leading back to the village.

Diana Farquarson's house lay halfway down the hill. It was by far the grandest house in the village which, apart from grey church, public house, and general-store-cum-post-office, comprised two rows of white-walled thatched cottages belonging to farm labourers and fishermen.

By contrast "The Laurels" as it was called, after the rich evergreens that clustered around it, was a detached grey-stone building with high slanting roof and attractive green wooden gables. It was approached by a gravel drive and its lawns were immaculately tended. A mulberry tree grew on a little grassy island in the middle of the drive.

Goose-pimply with cold and feeling rather nervous, Elizabeth rang the bell. She gave her name to the maid, neatly starched in cap and apron, who led them into the drawing room.

"Elizabeth! This is a nice surprise!" Mrs. Farquarson threw down the book she had been reading and rose from her chair without once taking her eyes away from the largely unadorned male figure standing beside the girl.

She was a tall restless woman with cold almond-shaped eyes below thinly-pencilled eyebrows. Despite her impeccable manners and breeding there was something almost gypsyish about the thick black shoulder length hair. Her skin had a sepulchral pallor about it that was vaguely repellent. She smiled at everything and everyone - but only with her mouth. Her eyes remained expressionless.

She wore modish grey slacks, wide in the leg but tight around the buttocks, and a beautiful cream voile blouse open at the neck.

Elizabeth felt completely naked in the presence of such cool elegance. She wished she hadn't brought Lennox there. She'd seen how the woman had devoured him with her eyes. She was still doing so.

"Elizabeth, aren't you going to introduce us?" she said languidly in a plum-like voice that bespoke of boundless ease and self-assurance.

"This is Mr. Lennox, my tutor."

"Your tutor? Gosh, how gorgeously old fashioned that sounds! Do you smoke, Mr.Lennox?" She opened a richly engraved silver cigarette case. He took one gratefully and accepted a light from her silver lighter.

"We've come to ask if we might borrow your boat to get back across the river -" He paused and puffed hungrily at the cigarette. He rarely smoked cigarettes, but the strain of the afternoon had told on his nerves. "- I know it's a frightful imposition, Mrs.Farquarson, but Elizabeth and I would be most awfully grateful. You see we got cut off by the tide-"

"Oh do please call me Diana - and of course you could borrow our boat - if Lou, like the complete idiot she is, hadn't managed to lose it!" She spoke drily and succinctly, tapping the end of her cigarette into the cut-glass ashtray on the coffee table. "After she'd gone out in it yesterday morning for a spot of fishing, the stupid girl forgot to beach it properly. It must have slipped its moorings and drifted out to sea in last night's storm. She's been confined to her room all day in disgrace!"

Elizabeth frowned. She thought the punishment grossly disproportionate to the crime. Louisa surely hadn't been responsible for the storm? Storms were an 'Act of God'. She sensed there was a deep streak of cruelty behind that exquisitely refined exterior.

"I say, you two, why not stay for tea and I'll run you home in the car afterwards?"

"That's very decent of you, Diana," Lennox said warmly.

"Think nothing of it. Only too happy to help out." After admiring the strapping torso and powerful thighs of Lennox, she turned to Elizabeth and surveyed her critically, as though weighing up a rival. "What a lovely young woman you've grown into!" she purred, padding around Elizabeth like a cat stalking its prey. When her sharp almond eyes caught sight of the tell-tale weals on Elizabeth's thighs she pounced triumphantly. "Goodness me, what have we here?" she exclaimed in mock horror, relentlessly probing the purple ridges with her index finger until Elizabeth winced in pain. "Looks to me as if your tutor has taken a stick to your backside, Elizabeth - am I right, Mr. Lennox?" She looked up and smiled at him knowingly.

More than a little taken aback, Lennox thought it best to come clean. While Elizabeth blushed and hung her head in shame, he related the whole episode that culminated in her whipping on the river bank.

Diana opened her mouth, displaying two rows of pearl like teeth and laughed brittlely; "You must admit, Elizabeth, it was a well deserved swishing! I wish I had a man in the house to keep Lou in such good order. Do tell me all the spicy details, Mr. Lennox, otherwise, -" she pretended to pout in displeasure "- I shall withdraw my offer to run you home. Did you whip Elizabeth on her bare bottom?"

He thought for a second then nodded, satisfied beyond all doubt that she shared his views on the disciplining of girls. Besides he had his own good reasons for telling the truth. It had occurred to him that someone in the village - maybe someone with a pair of powerful binoculars - had witnessed the scene. He thought it in his best interests therefore to furnish a local person with a full, uncensored version of things in case, village gossip being what it was, some prurient Peeping Tom should turn his tutor's perfectly legitimate chastisement of an erring pupil into a criminally indecent assault.

"Golly, this takes me back a bit!" Diana enthused, lighting another cigarette. "My father used to regularly take his riding crop to me. Great mountain of a man he was, with a big red face. Master of the North Devon Hunt - hence the riding crop!" She grimaced nostalgically. "He was always at his worst after a bad day's hunting. He'd just pick on me for no reason at all. Next minute I'd be lying across the sofa and he'd be taking out his frustration on my bare b-t-m! My God, how it stung! And the marks!" She raised her eyebrows in mock horror.

Elizabeth was acutely embarrassed by such talk. It was too near home for comfort. Lennox listened open-mouthed. One or two mothers of the young people he'd tutored had regaled him with similar stories, but none quite as graphically.

"Be a sport, Elizabeth!" she pleaded. "Slip your pants down and show me your bruises - just for old time's sake! At my old boarding school we had an unwritten rule. Every time a girl got the cane she had to 'display' to the rest of her form, or she was 'sent to Coventry'. Yes" she nodded proudly at Lennox, "I was caned at school too - but that's another story! Come on, Elizabeth, be a brick and show me, else I promise you, you'll be walking home after tea!" She smiled teasingly at the pair of them and winked at Lennox as if to say "pray indulge me in my little whim".

"Oh no, do I have to?" Elizabeth wailed, appealing to Lennox for arbitration.

"Do as Mrs. Farquarson asks this instant," he insisted, amused and fascinated by the general drift of the conversation, "unless, that is," he warned her darkly, "you want a spanking for disobedience." How he loved to display his power over the girl to someone else!

"Spankings, eh?" Diana's dark eyes lit up and she ran her tongue lasciviously across her lips. "Now they're a very different kettle of fish. It's highly embarrassing when you're an innocent young girl to have to go across a man's knee, eh, Elizabeth - but quite exhilarating in a funny-peculiar sort of a way!" She obviously spoke from past experience and Elizabeth felt sick. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. Here was this awful woman, systematically laying bare all Elizabeth's innermost dreams.

"Mind you," Diana went on, "I don't think Lou would react to it in quite that fashion. She's probably bawl the place down - she's such a baby." She looked wistfully at Lennox.

"You've never spanked Louise, then?" he asked, surprised that a woman so clearly in favour of corporal punishment should abstain from practising it.

"Oh no, I don't think it's a mother's place to do that kind of thing," she replied coyly, "it needs a strong masculine hand like yours, Mr.Lennox."

Elizabeth seethed with possessive fury. How dare Diana Farquarson presume to flirt with her tutor! He belonged to her alone - just as she belonged to him.

"So you've spanked her, have you?" Diana threw back her head and gave a well-bred tinkling laugh. The fact that she found it vastly amusing infuriated Elizabeth even more - although what she hated most of all about their conversation was the way they were discussing her as if she wasn't there.

"Yes indeed, I put Elizabeth across my knee several times when she misbehaved in the schoolroom." He felt relaxed and expansive now that he knew he was on safe ground. "But I have discontinued the practice in favour of the cane."

"You felt that spankings were too lenient a punishment for her?"

"Partly that - but also because I felt she was enjoying them."

The room fell silent. Elizabeth's face turned deathly pale with humiliated rage. He had gone too far. He had broken their precious unspoken confidence. Did he think so little of her feelings that he could play Judas and blab her secrets to the first attractive woman to catch his eye?

"Here then!" she cried hysterically, "If this is what you want ! Why don't you invite the whole village in to take a look?" She tore her swimsuit pants down to her knees and bent right over to display her naked bottom to the astonished pair of onlookers.

The weals were darker now and stood out more boldly than before. The places where the skin tissue had actually been broken were plainly visible. There was barely a square inch of white unblemished flesh to be seen anywhere from hip to thigh.

Diana caught her breath in amazement, then she laughed heartlessly. "Poor Elizabeth! She won't be doing any sitting down for a few days, will she!"

Sliding open a drawer in her escritoire she produced an expensive-looking box camera and calmly photographed the girl in the shameful act of exposing her well-whipped behind. The late afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows of the drawing room illuminated the tableau. Pierced by the shafts of multicoloured light the girl's scourged flesh glowed blood-red and gold. It reminded Lennox of a mediaeval painting of a martyred saint he'd once seen in Florence.

Ethically he knew it was disgraceful of Diana Farquarson to have taken advantage of the girl in such an underhanded manner - but aesthetically speaking the picture might well turn out to be a masterpiece. He'd give anything to possess a print of such a photograph...

Sensing his acute excitement Diana took another snap, this time from a lower angle and slightly to the side, emphasising the erotic rondure of Elizabeth's arse cheeks. Their fragile femininity, coupled with the savage flogging they'd received, drove Lennox nearly out of his mind.

As the camera clicked again Elizabeth looked round and saw it in Diana's hand. With a squeal of outrage she immediately straightened and hid her bottom in her cupped hands.

"Don't be alarmed, darling," Diana chided gently, "it's just a little hobby of mine, although maybe 'obsession' might be a better word to describe it!" She laughed. "I simply can't resist snapping everything in sight - your sweet little b-t-m included! Would you like copies of the prints? Or perhaps, " she added, turning blithely to Lennox, " they should go to you. You could frame them and hang them on the schoolroom wall as a salutary reminder to your pupil."

Lennox chuckled. He thought it was an excellent idea. What an extraordinary woman she was, to have conjured up so thrilling a fantasy for him! It was as though she could read his thoughts.

Elizabeth stared at her in dismay. How could such vulgar depravity dwell in a woman whose outer shell was one of polished refinement? Tears of humiliation glistened in her eyes as she hastily covered up her bottom.

"Oh dear, I see my little prank has upset you, Elizabeth. I'm sorry it was unforgivable of me," Diana murmured, replacing the camera in the drawer. "I can't bear to put a guest out of humour. We'll have to do something to cheer you up, won't we? Now let me think - ah, I know the very thing!"

She rang for the maid. "Millie, please ask Miss Louisa to join us, will you?"

So Louisa has never been spanked? I do believe that may be about to change.

Monday, November 20, 2017

Another Love our Lurkers celebration has come and gone, and it was so much fun! I would like to thank all the bloggers who participated and all the silent readers from around the globe who came out of the shadows to speak.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

It's here! That day we've been waiting for all year long has finally arrived! No, not Christmas, it's Love our Lurkers Day. Well, "Days" actually, because we celebrate our lurkers over a two-day period in order to give everyone a chance to participate. The tradition was started by Bonnie, the queen of spanking bloggers, a dozen years ago, and it's been going strong ever since.

If you are a silent reader who has never dared to leave a comment, now is your chance. We know you're out there, so don't be shy! You are among friends here. You may remain anonymous if you wish, or use a pen name. What should you say? That's entirely up to you. "Hello" is fine. Or tell me what country you live in. I know I have readers in most of the countries in the world.

Scroll down to see the list of blogs participating in this year's Love Our Lurkers festivities. These bloggers all want to hear from you, so please pay them a visit. Some bloggers are putting a second LOL post and some bloggers are joining in on the second day, so scroll waaay down to see what's new on Saturday.

If you're a blogger and want to jump in and take part, please leave a comment below so I can link your blog too. It's never too late to join us.

This is a follow-up to last week's revelation of Lennox's love of music and Elizabeth's introduction to jazz. They are spending quite a cozy afternoon together, but watch out, Mr. Lennox! Elizabeth is still as incorrigible as ever and she puts them both in danger.

In a Mist Chapter 10 - Elizabeth leads Lennox into danger

Later on the rain stopped. As they made their way back to the house, Elizabeth looked up at the brightening sky and saw a rainbow. Gracefully arched, it seemed to her like a girl in a multi-coloured dress bent over for discipline. Up there in the sky, swallows, like aerial scene-shifters, were chasing away the clouds, pecking maniacally at their vapourous skins.

"I shall take Mr. Lennox down to the beach," she told her guardian during lunch. He murmured his approval of the outing, glad that Lennox would be there to keep an eye on her.

"Watch her, Mr. Lennox, she's a handful" he cautioned, and addressed himself once more to his soup.

"I trust you can swim, Mr. Lennox?" she queried pertly. He detected the presence of a challenge.

"Tolerably well, thank you," he answered, smiling to himself. It was as if she were searching for something she could beat him at. Had his musical skills secretly nettled her?

At least he'd been right about her in one thing. No amount of chastisement could ever subdue a nature such as hers. In fact it seemed almost to thrive on punishment. He was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was to break her spirit.

After lunch she waited impatiently for him in the hall. The jazz had acted upon her nervous system like a drug and she was in the mood for courting danger. She wanted to show him her true colours. She'd taken her whippings bravely, more bravely than most boys would have done. Now there was noting left on earth to terrify her. She'd survived her baptism of fire.

She was shamelessly flaunting a daring two-piece swimsuit in pale blue cotton, the pants only just covering her cane-marks. Ove it she wore a knee-length white bathing-robe and carried her towel in a light canvas grip. She was barefoot.

Lennox joined her in cream slacks, sports shirt, and sandals.

"Where's your costume?" she demanded almost petulantly.

"I'm wearing it underneath. Don't fuss, girl, else you'll get a spanking!" She blushed and put her finger to her lips beseechingly, embarrassed lest the servants should hear him. Would he really do it to her there in the hallway, in full view of anyone that might come along? She knew him well enough to know that he would.

"Come on, there's a secret way down to the beach over the cliffs," she said. "Are you afraid of heights?"

He shook his head. Again that slight edge of challenge in her voice.

She was off, speeding across the lawn towards the outer wall with Lennox following, trying his best to preserve some dignity. They scrambled over the old dry stone wall. The grey stones were warm in the sunlight which flooded the red land below.

They dodged the ruddle pools and ran downhill towards the headland. The tumbledown walls gave way to rugged hedgerows. The lane deepened like a tunnel below sharply sloping fields. Ahead of them were the white breakers of the sea.

Elizabeth arrived at the edge of the cliff and waited for Lennox to catch her up. She looked up at him triumphantly, as though she'd just beaten him in a race. "Now it's my turn to show you things," she said, grinning devilishly. She pointed out the rocky path zig-zagging its way down the steep face.

Their descent was not without its perilous moments. At times they both started to slip and slide on the loose rock and they had to cling frantically to the roots of gorse and sloe bushes. "Watch out for adders. They mate this time of year," Elizabeth said, turning towards him so he could see she wasn't afraid. Lennox began to tread even more carefully, but he saw no snakes. Far below them the empty beach spread out flat and golden for miles.

They were hot and sticky when they reached the bottom. They clambered over the great rocks fallen from the sea-worn edge and leapt onto the wet sand.

"Race you to the water!" she cried, flinging off her robe and sprinting seawards, her dancing feet kicking up a storm of sand behind her,

"Not fair!" he shouted, caught in the act of taking down his slacks and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time he could start after her she was already swimming effortlessly amid the waves.

They stayed in the sea for a good half hour, testing each other out with races and crazy games. Elizabeth dared him to swim out with her to a small rock in the middle of the bay. When she reached it she perched on top of it, like a mermaid, while he swam round and round her, finally grabbing her leg and hauling her screaming back into the water.

Because of his athletic build he was by far the more powerful swimmer of the two. He could overtake and out-distance her with ease, and soon she was forced to acknowledge it. "Is there nothing I can do better than you?" she cried vexation as they rested, bobbing in the water.

"That is no way to speak to your tutor, Miss," he warned teasingly. "Have a care, lest I decide to take my cane to your bottom when we get back!" He seized her by the ankle and submerged her completely.

"B-but you said you wouldn't punish me at weekends," she spluttered, coming up for air when he released her.

"Ah, but I didn't really know you then, Elizabeth." He grinned hugely, relishing his masculine ascendancy over the girl. "Knowing you as I do now, I'd have no hesitation in taking down your costume and putting you over my knee here and now if I felt you deserved it."

Elizabeth pulled a face and swam quickly out of reach. Yet part of her yearned for him to do just that.

The tide had turned and was starting to go out. It was no longer safe to bathe. "Race you back," he said. This time he won easily.

She flopped down on the beach at his feet like an exhausted puppy and lay there on her tummy, idly tracing pictures on the wet sand. Lennox saw the cane weals peeping out from either side of her buttocks where the gusset of the swimsuit had rucked up. Like a salty eel his penis stiffened and rose. "Stand up, Elizabeth, and I'll towel you off."

He rubbed and pummeled her dripping body with sadistic glee, paying special attention to the tops of her thighs. Then he began to use the towel like a whip, flicking her playfully just below her buttocks, catching her on a tender spot.

"OUCH! PIG!" she squealed histrionically, then glared at him, arms akimbo, daring him to punish her for saying it. Despite his good-humoured warnings she didn't feel in the slightest bit under his jurisdiction, out there in the open air. The schoolroom seemed a million miles away.

"Right, Elizabeth, you're in for it now!" he snapped, advancing on her, bent on retribution.

"You'll have to catch me first!" she cried, taking to her heels with an angry Lennox in pursuit. But instead of making for the sea-shore she veered to the left towards the mouth of the river Lym. Half an hour before it had been smooth and sluggish, but the tide had turned and a swift current was running.

He lost his footing on the slippery sand and fell awkwardly, twisting an ankle. Cursing both himself and the girl he struggled to his feet, just in time to see her dive into the swirling waters.

The tide had turned in earnest now. The river-tide was racing out to sea. It looked tremendously strong. Lennox doubted whether even a powerful swimmer like he could do battle with it, let alone a mere slip of a girl.

"Elizabeth! Come back!" he yelled at the top of his voice, but the tidal current had already fastened on her, sending her spinning helplessly towards the churning vortex where the river met the sea.

He limped the few remaining yards to the river bank and plunged in. Once in the water his twisted ankle magically ceased to trouble him. He swam smoothly and confidently out into the middle. Entering the mainstream of the rushing current he swam with it and quickly overtook the girl.

She had completely panicked. She was flailing her arms wildly and screaming with terror, swallowing in the process getting great mouthfuls of water.

He slapped her resoundingly across the face to subdue her. Then seizing her from behind he gripped her in an arm-lock under her chin and began doggedly to tow her to safety out of the current's reach. He couldn't fight it head on by swimming against it so instead he tried to swim across it in the direction of the opposite bank which was by now the nearer of the two.

The desperate struggle lasted an eternity. He sobbed for breath, his lungs nearly bursting with the effort. Elizabeth lay limp and silent in the crook of his arm. Then at last they were free of the current and within reach of the shore.

His feet touched bottom. Raising himself he flung her roughly onto the river bank where she lay spluttering and weeping. His compassion for her was as nothing compared to his bitter anger that she had so stupidly endangered the lives of both of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her teeth chattering with cold. She felt wretched. As her fear ebbed away she experienced a longing to be whipped.

"You're sorry?" he echoed flatly, flicking the wet brown hair out of his eyes and blowing his nose with his hands. He stood up and gazed around. Nothing but hump-backed sand dunes covered with coarse clumps of marram grass. A couple of hundred yards away was the swollen estuary, Their clothes and belongings lay where they'd left them--safe, intact, and completely out of reach.

"How many miles is it home--from this side of the river?" he asked grimly, clenching his hands to prevent himself from seizing her in his anger and shaking her bodily. She was still in a state of dazed shock--he would delay his punishment till later.

"Twelve...maybe more," she replied, chilled to the bone as she struggled wearily to her feet. "The nearest bridge is seven miles up-river...I'm so sorry!" The full realisation of what had actually happened began to dawn on her. He'd risked his life for hers. They could have both been drowned. She dissolved into grateful, guilty tears.

As she began to cry his anger evaporated into pity. Her anguished sobbings tore at his heart-strings. "Don't cry, you're safe now," he murmured, taking her hands in his. She regarded him in mute adoration then planted a kiss full on his lips. Confused and aroused, he drew back, ashamed of his feelings. She blushed and surreptitiously adjusted the seat of her swimsuit pants to make herself decent again.

The sun had vanished behind leaden clouds. From somewhere up among the dunes a curlew cried. They were cold, wet, and half-naked. "We'd better make a start then, if we hope to get back before nightfall," he sighed, frowning at the change in the weather.

"Why don't we borrow a boat from someone to get us back across the river?" she suggested suddenly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

How typical of a girl to say a stupid thing like that, he thought screwing up his face in exasperation. "I can't see a single living creature in this god-forsaken spot--let alone a blasted boat!" he growled, slapping his sides resoundingly to keep warm.

"But the village is only just around the next bend. I think Mrs. Farquarson has a boat--"

"Who?" he inquired testily.

"Mrs. Diana Farquarson--the femme fatale of Lymchurch!" she laughed. "She's terribly mysterious and glamorous. About thirty-five, divorced, awfully rich. There's been heaps of gossip and scandal going around about her in the village ever since she settled here. It seems she's had a string of gentlemen friends--some of them not very nice by all accounts." She frowned. "I've always thought there was something rather cruel about her. You can see it in her eyes."

The more she chattered on excitedly about Diana Farquarson, the more visibly interested Lennox became in her--so much so that eventually she grew jealous and wished she'd never mentioned the woman's name.

"How did you come to meet this lady?" he asked her curiously, aware of her guardian's detestation of visitors at Lymchurch House.

"She has a daughter, Louisa, two years younger than me," she replied more guardedly. "We used to play together when we were little. Tomms would drive me there in the car."

"And you say she has a boat?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then we'll ask her for the loan of it. She can only say no."

They set off along the river bank in the direction of the village, Elizabeth growing more gloomily convinced by the minute that her tutor would succumb to the fatal attractions of Diana Farquarson. The previous night's storm had caused flooding. Small trees and bushed uprooted by the wind and the rain had been washed downstream. He ran to the water's edge and searched among the debris, looking for a suitable rod of correction--for he hadn't forgotten that he still had a score to settle with the girl. Punishment should be dealt out swiftly and without delay. That was a maxim he always adhered to, and he saw no earthly reason in departing from it now.

He fished out a supple ash switch from the water and began to strip it of its leaves. She watched him closely, the colour draining from her face. How she feared him at that moment! She hadn't the strength to run away--even if she'd wanted to. She knew he intended to whip her, there in the open...and she was going to let him...and even love him for doing it. It was his privilege, his right--for he had saved her life out there in the turbulent river mouth and she could never begin to repay him such a colossal debt.

His face grew cruel with excitement. He knew he was perfectly justified in giving her the whipping of her life.

"Carry on walking!" he barked--and as she did so, casting fearful glances behind her, he began to beat her with the switch, across the bottom and thighs. Yelping with pain she broke into a run, but he pursued her, wielding the switch with such deadly visciousness that the backs of her thighs became tattooed with a network of bright red weals.

But he soon grew tired of attacking a moving target, for her bottom was by now wriggling and swerving so furiously that it had become maddeningly elusive. Seizing her by the waist he carried her over to where a large rock projected from the steep flank of the Lym. Guessing what was in his mind she tried to dig her heels in the sand--but he was so much stronger than her.

He bent her across the flat face of the rock and began cooly taking down her swimsuit pants. "No! Not here! Please!" she wailed, scarlet with humiliation that he would actually go so far as to bare her bottom out there in the open countryside, where anyone might chance to see her in her shameful nakedness.

Lennox's excitement rose to a fury as he planted cut after whistling cut upon the shocked girl's bare flanks. The knobby little buds on the ash stick tore her flesh. Soon the white plumpness of her cheeks was dotted with specks of blood. Had she turned to look behind her she would have glimpsed the dome of his tumescent prick rearing up like a snake above the top of his shorts.

Her yells coalesced into one continuous scream. Seagulls flocked overhead, mistaking her piercing cry for one of their own. She clawed with her nails at the granite face and jiggled her bottom frenziedly from side to side, but still the switch rose and fell--more slowly now, but with pitiless regularity.

He took grim delight in the whipping. He felt he was stripping away the layers of social convention separating him from the girl. Now she was no longer his pupil, nor he her tutor. He was conscious only of his prick and its blind urge to penetrate and possess her. Her naked rump--lewdly thrust outwards in his face--drove him nearly to the edge of insanity. He could plainly see her pussy, its trembling lips seeming to plead with him as her bottom gyrated in torment. Never before had she been blatantly exposed. It was as though she was offering herself up to him. How easily he could do it to her now, there on the riverbank.

Then suddenly his mood changed. The glorious elation vanished and he remembered once again who they were--an innocent young girl and a tutor twelve years her senior, entrusted with grave responsibilities for her welfare. With a bitter cry of frustration he flung the ash switch into the middle of the river and tried frantically to cram his stalking erection back inside his shorts.

Scooping up water in his hands he sloshed it over her crimson wealed behind to wash away all traces of blood. The salt water stung her tender flesh and she gasped and flinched.

Then when the searing agony died away she felt his fingers caress and stroke her weals, sweetly and soothingly, like the fingers of a priest at a 'laying on of hands'. She closed her tear-stained eyes and breathed deeply. What he was doing to her now was heavenly balm.

She loved him for it, near to madness.

Well now, that was quite a punishment. But what about the mysterious Diana? Will Lennox fall under her spell?

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Love Our Lurkers Days are coming up at the end of this week, and I want you to participate. It's the time when our silent readers are encouraged to come out of hiding and leave a comment. The details are:

What is it? Lurkers, anonymous readers, call them what you will. They are the people who read our blogs on a regular or occasional basis, but never leave a comment. On LOL Days, we encourage those people to be brave and leave a comment. Most blogs allow commenters to remain anonymous, so you never have to reveal your real identity.

Where is it? It's everywhere, but right here on this blog, I will put up a post and record the links to all bloggers who are participating in LOL Days. If you want to see who has joined in the fun, drop by here and you will see the list.

When is it? Friday, November 17 and Saturday, November 18.

What do I have to do? If you are a blogger, publish a post on November 17, encouraging your silent readers to leave a comment. "Love Our Lurkers" in the title will be helpful but not compulsory.

What do I say? Some bloggers ask questions for their lurkers to answer. Others have competitions, with a spank for every comment left. Still others only want all their readers to say hello. The important thing is to be friendly and encouraging to readers who might be apprehensive about leaving a comment. Please remember to allow anonymous comments, even if only for a day or two.
How can I help right now? If you have not already done so, I invite you to post an advance LOL Days announcement soon, so that all your readers know about it too. Not all bloggers read this blog, and we want to be sure nobody is left out.

Here are some images you may use if you wish for your LOL Days post.

Save the image of your choice to your computer, then upload it to your post. These logos are entirely optional; you are most welcome to use any other image of your choice.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Have you ever engaged in spanking with a non-painful implement?Sir Wendel: We went to Disney World this summer and bought a pair of the stuffed
Mickey Mouse gloves. It is fun to spank her bottom with them but there
is no sting and they do not cause the slightest bit of pain. Now the
Mickey spatula is a different story but I’ll save that for another
brunch. We also use swimming pool noodles on each other. Again, a lot of fun but no pain or sting.

Roz: Great question Hermione, on occasion while fetching scarves etc for
either blindfolds or to tie hands Rick has first attempted to spank me
with them using a good flicking motion.

Katie: Hi Hermione, :) I can't think of specific things that Rob has used for
this kind of spanking. There have been a few of these kinds of items,
over the years, when we are being playful. We have a leather paddle with
a soft fuzzy side. That doesn't hurt at all, and is fun. He's popped me
a time or two, on the bottom with a decorative pillow. I love real
spankings (most of them), but playful, soft ones are lots of fun, too.

Amy: One time Eric had enough of my moodiness when we were visiting relatives
so when they went out to the grocery store, he told me to take off my
belt because he wasn't wearing one. I had on some new pants that came
with this cheap plastic "decorative" belt. Well, Eric swung that thing
as hard as he could because no matter what, it did NOTHING. By the
fourth swing, we were both laughing so hard, the mood changed and we had
a wonderful visit.

Hermione: Ron once opened a bag of bread that had been around for a while and found green mold on a slice. He proceeded to spank me with the slice, to teach me to be more careful with expiration dates. Needless to say, it was fun and we both laughed heartily.

Thanks you for sharing those fun stories! Stay tuned for an update on this year's Love our Lurkers days!

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Hello, friends. I'm glad you stopped by today for brunch. You know you're always welcome, and the more the merrier!

Today's topic came to mind as I was preparing the next chapter of In a Mist for an upcoming post. Spankings are intended to hurt, and the appropriate implement is chosen with that end in mind (no pun intended!) But sometimes an object is used for spanking that can't possibly hurt. Obviously, this would result in a playful spanking, which is often just as much fun as a real one.

Have you ever engaged in spanking with a soft or non-painful object, such as a towel, feather or food item? How did it come about and what was the object used? What was the result of this kind of spanking, and how did you feel about it?

You will have to wait until next week to find out what "soft" item Mr. Lennox used on Elizabeth, but in the meantime, leave your response as a comment below. Once everyone has had a chance to respond, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Baxter: Back in the day I was a fetching 'coppertone' girl, looking at the sun,
baring my naughty bum. Here I am, still looking at the sun, with a
bigger, yet still naughty bum, always hoping for a spanking.

KDPierre: Hilda: "Look, Sparky, you can almost see the 'moon'."Sparky (thinking): 'If those daisies keep slipping, I think there will be a 'full moon' before long.'

Dave: Plumber, on vacation.

Hands63: Behold, the crack of dawn!

Anon 1: Hilda, pointing at the clouds: "See that beautiful reddish color on the
dog's belly? Well that's the color my bottom's going to be after my
boyfriend puts me over his lap and paddles me for wearing this daisy
bikini out in public and showing off my ample rear end to everybody who
walks by."

Dr. Ken: "And if you keep sticking your cold nose where it doesn't belong, you'll be joining him in doggie heaven!"

Anon 2: I just wish a man would chase me like that and then put me over his knee and give me a good sound spanking once he catches me.

Do you think if I stand here long enough with my bottom on display like this a nice gentleman will get the hint and spank me?

Anon 3: The boys followed Hilda everywhere.

The new bikinis weren’t designed for big-bottomed girls like Hilda, or were they?